


give me little death

by pissard



Series: motion sickness [2]
Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: Drug Addiction, Emotionally Repressed, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 04:31:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20886161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissard/pseuds/pissard
Summary: They had always been two sides of a coin. Sequel to all sins are attempts to fill voids





	give me little death

> _ All your praying amounts to just one breath  
Please keep your victory  
But give me little death _

* * *

A lot about Theo had changed. 

He’s taller than Boris now. Even his voice was different. Of course Boris knew that this only made sense—they were adults now after all, but it still unsettled him. The changes. Even the subtle ones. There were little dimples when he smiled. He still expected the same, morose monotone of teenage Thoedore Decker to greet him. Now Theo speaks in a smart, clipped tone that was all New York City. 

And the only reason Boris knows this was indicative of a New York City accent thanks to Mr. Silver who taught Boris more than he learned from anyone else since.

What hadn’t changed was that Theo still looked right through you half the time. To others it probably had projected an image of cool disinterest but Boris knew better. He knew what it really meant. 

Theo fit in nicely to the image he was trying to project but Boris could see the cracks in the veneer. He could see the flaws in the stroke work. The bags under Theo’s eyes were deep and bruised; there was a slight tremor in his hands; the way his voice came out a little too quickly, his words all jumbled together. 

Boris was familiar with all the symptoms. He saw them in himself almost daily. Theo was actually handling himself rather well but Boris couldn’t help but feel sickly pleased to see the flaws. He had always been able to see Theo for what he really was. 

_ You are not as perfect as you like to think. _

Everything changes after they get the Goldfinch back. Boris had hoped almost foolishly, it would be for the better. He didn't even know what he expected. That Theo would come running back to him with open arms? They may as well live on different planes of existence for how much their lives had in common. It could never be what it once was, no matter how much Boris wanted it.

That in itself was stupid; Boris did not know what he wanted. He never knew what he wanted with Theo. A friend? Yes. A brother? Yes. More? Desperately. 

What was ‘_more_?’

A dangerous thing to think about.

So Boris didn’t think about it. He got Theo’s Goldfinch to safety and lifted Theo from whatever pit he had tossed himself into once again and left. This was what Theo wanted. After Antwerp, after Theo sat in his apartment and cried on his couch confessing how he’d tried once again to die, Boris knew that he could no longer let himself fall into despair for Theodore Decker. 

In all these years he had convinced himself that the Goldfinch was Theo’s heart. The precious, small golden bird that Theo had cradled to his chest and mourned his mother over. It was the only way Boris could have ever truly had Theo. It had been a child’s fantasy and one he had paid dearly for. 

He looked at Theo with an aching, broken heart and knew how easily again it would be to make the same mistake all over again. Except maybe this time Boris would carve his own heart from his chest to offer to Theo. _ Here, is this enough, will it make you happy? _

Then Theo was gone, again, to New York and Boris continued life without him. It had been tempting to fall back into the heroin. To pick up the needle and plunge himself into mindlessness and just forget. His heartbreak felt more real than it had in years with the smell of Theo’s cologne still lingering on his pillows. 

Boris did his best to throw himself into his work instead. 

All over the place, wherever and whenever they needed him, whoever would talk to him at least. Boris did not need to do much now with the money from the Goldfinch in his account but to make appearances always suited. So he did. In Moscow, across over to London, then into Barcelona and on from there. 

And yet… 

The levee had to break and as it always did, it was at the weakest point, which had always been Boris. He was drunk, morose and _ Dr. No _ playing muted on the TV. He’s had Theo’s contact information sitting useless on his phone to be stared and agonized over in his lowest moments, like a lovesick teenager he used to be. Boris finally did the most indirect thing he can do about it: he emailed Theo. Who the fuck checked their email? 

Of course Theo checked his email.

He still didn’t expect a reply but he got one. Then another and another and all of Boris’ months of self-pitying in his isolation felt as ridiculous as they were. Theo did not hate him as he feared.

When they meet in Paris, Boris is shocked that Theo looked good, healthier? Boris is not sure which it is or what it was that changed but it was there. (Boris would learn that Theo no longer did anything but drink or smoke weed and what a difference that could make.) Theo smiled when he saw Boris and even though Boris knew it was with reluctance that Theo had agreed to meet he looked happy to see Boris. They hugged and went up into Theo’s hotel room with Boris’ wine and the night had been good. It had been easy. Not quite like old times but close enough that Boris felt a true fool.

The second, the third and the fourth are all good as well. It was the fifth, in Roma, when Boris realized that things might be different than before. The time they spend together was the same: easy and familiar. Stretched out together in the same bed, watching a bad movie and laughing over a shared joint. Theo had dozed off before the movie was over and Boris decided he was done with the sweat clinging to his skin and would indulge in the massive tub the small apartment offered.

He wasn’t even sure what had woken Theo or brought Theo into the bathroom but he recognized, plainly, the look in Theo’s eyes as he’d stared down at Boris.

It had agonized him in the months that followed and had clearly done the same to Theo. Their messages were terse and infrequent for that brief time and Boris had been happy to let it be that way. What could come of them indulging in this? Nothing good. They stood on opposite shores and every night that they shared together was pure luck. A gift.

It was not meant to last.

But Boris wanted it so much and he couldn’t stay away from Theo any easier than he could keep from the bottle. 

From there it was probably an inevitably what happened in Prague. Boris didn’t want to push and it seemed that despite what he had so obviously seen, Theo didn’t seem to be so aware of what he wanted. 

He did not bare his heart completely that night, though, as much as Boris wanted to. _ I love you, Theo, you fucking idiot_. Boris had wanted to hold Theo down and fuck the words into him, to hopefully make Theo understand what it really and truly meant. 

Boris did not. They parted ways again but this time with a lingering touch and the briefest but there kiss at the train terminal. Boris felt like he was walking on air for at least a week afterward. He fucked into his fist each night as he recalled the tight grip of Theo’s ass around his cock. It was like the heroin. He’d been given a taste and he’d never be able to resist the temptation again. 

“Potter,” Boris answered his phone, slightly breathless. It was just after New Years in Antwerp. Snow was fresh on the ground outside. 

“I’m waiting for the Uber now,” came Theo’s immediately reply. As usual no ‘_Hello,_’ no ‘_How are you?_’ Boris grinned at the overstuffed trash bag he was dumping into the bin. 

“Ah yes, Uber instead of your good friend Gyuri to come get you,” Boris drawled.

“Boris,” came the huffed but expected reply and Boris smirked. 

Theo coming to Antewerp was a special trip. He was not here for any other reason than Boris. Not for a changeling, not for business. It was purely to see Boris and to stay in his flat and to fuck. Perhaps other things but Boris knew that he would not want to do much else. 

How the fuck could he not? 

It took almost an hour for Theo to get to Boris’ flat from the airport. Boris spent the time doing his best attempt at ‘tidying up,’ which in sum was: starting to clean but then growing bored of that and turning the TV on to lie on his sofa and smoke. Theo is rumpled and looking perturbed when he arrived but it’s nothing new except what is when Theo leaned in to kiss Boris. They lingered in the door of Boris’ flat and just kissed, Boris’ hands curled in the collar of Theo’s overcoat like a lovestruck girl.

He felt like one when Theo pulled away and licked his lips. Boris was lovestruck. 

“You tidied up,” Theo observed as he dropped his luggage inside the door and shrugged off his coat. Boris shrugged, dismissive.

“I hadn’t been here in a while, it was starting to smell.” Theo’s nose wrinkled delicately. 

He held his arms open expansively. “My house is yours,” he intoned and grinned at Theo’s dry glance. “Though not much has changed since you were here last.” 

They fell into an easy pattern and Boris felt like a boy again. Down to the market to buy groceries, some wine and other provisions. It felt disgustingly domestic and also made Boris feel like a boy again.

The setting was different but the steps they took were the same: down marketplace aisles; shoulders bumping as they reached for the same bag of chips; arguing over which cut of steak to get. Only now Boris had a wallet full of cash to pay for the full lot. If Theo wanted a whole cart full of every item in the store Boris wouldn’t tell him no. 

He was so fucked. 

Theo was too jet lagged to go out to dinner so they crowded together in the tiny kitchen in Boris’ flat to cook the steaks. Nostalgia ached in him, took a slice out of Boris like a physical wound. 

“How is Popchyk?” Boris asked as he flipped the steak, glancing askance at Theo and tried to see if the turbulent emotions raged inside him. 

“Old,” was Theo’s honest response. It, too, hurt Boris to think about. Little Popchyk was not long for their world. Too good for it for how long he’d been in it. “Hobie takes good care of him, though.”

That made sense to Boris as they were a matched set. He said as much and Theo laughed, the first time had had since he’d arrived and Boris laughed with him, pleased. Theo looked comfortable in his sweater and jeans and Boris wanted to take him to pieces. “Popchyk is all that is missing, to make this like old times,” Boris said after they had quieted and Theo stared back and Boris knew that he’d been feeling the same. 

Dinner is eaten on Boris’ cramped couch, their knees tucked together and plates sat atop them. Theo found a movie to have sit in the background as they talk about much of anything. 

Theo took their plates into the kitchen and stood at the sink to wash their dishes and Boris remained on the couch to watch him, gnawing at his thumbnail. It was unbelievably unfair how easily Theo fit into Boris’ space--a space that Boris didn’t even consider a home but with Theo’s presence he was suddenly fond of the too-cold floors and the cramped kitchen. 

“Come back over here, Potter,” Boris whined and Theo turned to look at him, amused. 

“What for?”

“I want to touch you.”

The amused look didn’t leave Theo’s face but he obliged and came back to the couch, drying his hands on a ratty old tea towel. Theo sat close to him on the couch, head turned to look at him, and Boris wasted no time and kissed Theo.

He knew exactly what he wanted to do. He’d gone to bed thinking about it almost every night since Prague and maybe even more since then. Theo’s kisses tasted like the cheap vodka they’d been drinking and cigarettes and Boris craved it, his chest aching. It was like Vegas, almost, like reaching backwards into time. 

Boris kneeled on the floor, sliding his hands up Theo’s thighs and grinning. Theo looked down at him with flushed cheeks and lips just slightly parted. It’s tempting to kiss him again but Boris resisted, he wanted to keep on track. He pulled Theo’s belt free from its clasp, the fine leather smooth in his grasp, and Theo’s breath hitched above him. Boris had turned his gaze to his work.

Theo’s jeans were button-fly and Boris had something to say about that but the joke was short-circuiting in his brain as he tugged the buttons free. Boris tugged Theo’s jeans open to expose the bulge in his navy boxer-briefs. His mouth watered at the sight and traced a finger up the length of it to the damp tip, pleased by Theo’s answering groan. 

“I miss your tighty whities,” Boris said with a pout, glancing up. Theo was still staring down at him with the same intensity. 

“I’m not fifteen anymore,” Theo said with a snort and Boris grinned back at him and squeezed Theo’s cock.

“Mm, thank god for that,” Boris crooned and leaned in to mouth at Theo’s cock through the fabric of his underwear. The smell of Theo a combination of sweat and the smell of his arousal and Boris inhaled deeply. He shuddered as he felt Theo’s hand slipped into his hair and gripped tight. 

Boris pulled Theo’s boxers off completely and marveled at Theo’s cock up close. It was as pretty as Theo, plump and flushed red. 

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Mm--?”

“Sucked cock---”

“I may have,” Boris replied slyly and looked up again, pumping Theo slowly with one hand. It was a lie, he had never been with another man. There’d been chances but he’d never let it go farther than that. Theo was looking at him and Boris was surprised to see the naked jealousy there. 

“I haven’t, Theo,” he said and he had forgotten just how deeply Theo’s jealousy could run. When they had been boys and Boris had turned his attention to Kotku there was no other way to describe how Theo reacted. He was jealous. Theo had been jealous that he no longer possessed all of Boris’ attention and time. Little had he known back then, Boris had done this on purpose. Had looked desperately for anyone who caught his eye and tolerated his attention and Boris truly had loved Kotku and still missed her to this day.

It was different with Theo, though, it always had been. Even then, Kotku had known the truth in Boris’ heart, and would look at her with her big, light eyes with pity. 

Boris had never touched another man, though. No other man had caught his eye in quite the same way as Theo had. Why this was, Boris couldn’t be sure. He didn’t think he was strictly straight but maybe it had been the circumstances they were in. They were young and thrown together at the most vulnerable times of their lives, forced to find solace and comfort in each other when they had no one else in the world. Boris would still dream of Vegas but that instead that they were all that was left of the world; the last two on the whole planet, broken remnants of the fucked up world that made them. 

These dreams felt real enough for how isolated they had made themselves for those two years. 

“I am very good at going down on girls, though,” Boris continued on as if he’d never been interrupted by Theo’s repressed emotional issues and continued to lazily stroke Theo’s cock.

“I’d say this is the exact opposite,” Theo replied and his tone was dry but Boris managed to get his voice to catch as he twisted his wrist upward. He liked this power. 

“Mmhm, maybe not so much.”

Boris was done with talking and done with wondering at any of their many problems. Maybe they would talk about it, maybe they would not. Right now Boris wanted to suck Theo’s cock. He had been daydreaming about it for weeks---since they’d first even mentioned the plans for Theo to visit. 

He dropped his head forward to return his attention to Theo’s pretty cock again. There was a perfect bead of precome sitting on the top of it and Boris dipped his head down to lick it clean. The flavor was as he expected---almost familiar, like eating pussy. Boris hummed and took Theo in his mouth completely, sliding his fist down as he took Theo almost completely into his mouth. The hand in his hair gripped tight and pulled hard against his scalp.

His earlier assumption had been right. Not so much different than eating a girl out and actually far easier. Theo was already panting and making soft moans above him, his cock pulsing in Boris’ mouth, and probably close enough to coming. 

It had not even been ten minutes of this and Boris jaw was not even tired yet. Ten times more work with a girl. 

Boris’ own cock was hard in his sweats and he pressed his palm against it, just for some brief relief. The sounds alone coming from Theo were enough to make him want to come. Theo was pulling on his hair in earnest and Boris risked another look up but Theo’s head had fallen back against the couch and all Boris could see was his bobbing adam’s apple as his throat worked. 

He decided that he liked sucking cock, or more accurately, he liked sucking Theo’s cock. Boris liked the feel of the weight of Theo’s cock on his tongue, the rich masculine taste of the precome in his mouth. 

“Boris---” 

That was the only warning Boris got before Theo was coming in his mouth. Boris choke for just a moment before he pulled back enough to let the hot splash of come just hit his tongue. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sat back on his heels, feeling stupidly pleased with himself. 

Theo was panting and had thrown an arm over his face, his other hand still curled into a fist in Boris’ hair. Boris watched the rise and fall of his chest and pushed up his t-shirt to seek the smooth expanse of his chest. 

“Fuck! Boris!” Theo laughed breathlessly and pushed at Boris’ head. 

Boris crawled up onto the couch over Theo’s lap and collapsed onto the couch. He pulled a cigarette out of his hoodie pocket and lounged backward. Theo ran his hands up Boris’ calves, up under the loose leg of Boris’ sweats. 

“You’re still hard,” Theo observed. 

“Mm.” Boris took a deep inhale from his cigarette and blew the smoke into the air above him as Theo moved up between his thighs. 

He shivered as Theo’s hands framed his hips and Boris glanced down at him, feigning disinterest. “I haven’t sucked cock---either,” Theo was saying and Boris watched him silently. “I never fucked any men. Almost, in college but I just, I couldn’t.”

“Ah,” Boris said when he assumed Theo was done and passed his cigarette to Theo. He sat up slightly and pushed the hair off Theo’s forehead, looking critically at his face. “I’m the same.”

Theo pulled Boris’ sweats down to expose his cock to the cool air. Boris shivered watching Theo, his heart racing in his chest. He recognised that look on Theo’s face. It was the same look Theo had given the painting the night in Amsterdam when they’d so briefly had it again but hungrier, dirtier, and Boris ached with it. 

“What are you planning to do, Potter?” 

“I told you not to call me that during sex.”

“You are so easily embarrassed,” Boris remarked and cupped Theo’s face to squeeze his cheeks together, his fingers digging into the frames of his glasses. Theo winced. “It is adorable the way you blush like a girl.”

“Fuck you.” 

Boris gentled his hold on Theo’s face and removed his glasses from his face and then traced his thumb down Theo’s nose. “There hasn’t ever been any other man I’ve wanted to touch me,” he moved on to the shape of Theo’s cupid’s bow. “You’re the only one.”

Theo shut his eyes and drew in a slow breath. The words unsaid hovered between them, in the air, and Theo leaned down to press their foreheads together. 

They rocked together, Theo’s thin hips pressed tight against Boris’ still hard cock. He groaned softly and hitched his leg up over Theo’s thigh. Boris wanted more than this. He wanted to fuck Theo again and maybe even be fucked by Theo but the desperation was too pervasive to overcome by this point and all he could do was cling to Theo as his orgasm crested over him. 

Boris shuddered and shook under Theo and felt the damp bloom at the front of his sweatpants. A hand brushed the sweaty hair clinging to his forehead away and then Theo was pushing himself up and off of Boris. Cold air immediately replaced the space Theo had occupied and Boris did his best not to shiver and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. 

There was a click of Theo’s zippo as he lit another cigarette followed by the sound of his feet as he crossed the room. “Do you want another drink?”

“Da.”

Later Boris would fuck Theo, holding him pinned to the mattress and thrusting into him hard and deep enough that they rip the sheets from the entire bed by the end of it. Theo laid spread eagle afterwards and Boris sat between his thighs to trace patterns into the small of his stomach and knew, irrecoverably, he was utterly fucked. 

It can’t go back exactly as it was. Boris sat smoking his cigarette, the needle discarded to his left and Theo’s slumbering form to his right, and felt for the first time in many years the urge to cry. He wanted so badly to have something that he couldn’t and after having the Goldfinch for so long and managing to soundly fuck it up he knew, all at once, that even though it all was right and the bird was properly back in its cage, he could never again have Theo’s heart like that.

Boris could never again have Theo like he did Vegas. Neither of them could ever own each other so completely. Boris had Astrid and his babies and Theo had his obligations to Hobie and the Barbours. Life had torn them apart. But had it, really? It was their choice to make. Boris had chosen to never seek Theo out until he’d fucked up spectacularly.

He pressed his thumb to the puckered needle mark in the crook his elbow and blew smoke into the cold night air. Boris had fucked it all up. 

While he could he would cling to what he could. These stolen moments. For now, while Theo sought to fix his own mistakes, Boris could insert himself into the moments between for as long as Theo would let him. He took up Theo’s hand and threaded their fingers together and brought the knuckles to his mouth. 

He whispered in the dark, voice scratchy in Ukranian. He said it again each once in Polish, then Russian, and then softest at all, “I love you, Theo,” in English. 

**Author's Note:**

> song lyrics at the beginning is St. Vincent - The Apocalypse Song ! 
> 
> I continue to say fuck internalized homophobia BUT on that repressed feelings life so I'm a fake bitch. I might have more of this in me and a possible happy ending, which is also fake of me to say bc I don't even know if I have the will in me to write it as my life is a pit of despair woe, woe ad nausem. 
> 
> check out my goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/softpanic  
check out my twitter: https://twitter.com/yoloshoujo


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